Sarah vs the Chocolate Croissants
by Arathorn73
Summary: In a touching scene in "Chuck vs the DeLorean" 2.10 , Chuck shows up at Sarah's door with breakfast. This piece more fully explores Sarah's thoughts during that scene. Some touches of Charah but mostly friendship.


_Standard disclaimer. I own nothing of Chuck -- use your heads, people. I wanted to write this a couple days ago, but I've been busy. No beta, either, so all the mistakes are very definitely mine._

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Sarah had completed her morning run. She was in her room, trying to decide what to do for breakfast. Yesterday's French toast with whipped cream and strawberries was still weighing on her mind and, she feared, her thighs. She knew she should just have some fruit – a small breakfast and an afternoon work-out should help her feel better. But she wanted comfort food – her father's disappearance was weighing on her more keenly than she would admit, even to herself. The internal debate raged until a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Dad? Is that you? Would you really come back to bring me a breakfast? Could it be that I do matter to you? That I'm not just a pawn to be pushed around to help your latest score?

It wasn't. It was Chuck – she knew by the knock. What was he doing here? Was he here to pry into her past? To put his nose where it didn't really belong? Though he hadn't really done that last night – he'd been a perfect gentleman. She opened the door, still lost in her thoughts. The smell hit her first – chocolate and coffee. Her mouth watered involuntarily – comfort food – exactly what she was craving.

His words came barreling in next. "Hey! They were all out of fruit, so I was forced to bring up a couple of chocolate croissants." He knew. Somehow he knew what she was wanting for breakfast – not just comfort food but the permission, no, request to eat it. So often, Chuck was able to give her what she needed, even if she didn't know what it was until he showed up to fill the void. Were they really all out of fruit? It didn't matter; he'd been perfect.

Then, seeing him there. Just standing patiently, holding up the bag for her inspection. Did he know, or even suspect, how much having a friend like him meant to her? How much support he gave her? She luxuriated in the feeling momentarily before responding. "Well, I guess I have no choice but to take those off you." The double entendre just slipped out. Yeah, she still thought and dreamt about him that way, but they were both working so hard to keep the mask of friendship up. Thinking about taking things off him made a smile start to grow, deep within her core.

She grabbed the bag out of his hand, feeling the weight. It was perfect. Enough to eat and fill her, but not a ridiculous amount. It wasn't meant to impress. It was a gesture of pure kindness, out of the seemingly infinite goodness of his heart. She let the growing smile reach her cheeks. "Come in."

She moved aside to let him come in and went to sit on the bed. At one point, eating together on the bed at her place had been awkward – neither knew quite what to do. It felt stilted. Now, though… No longer. Basically anything with the two of them was comfortable. Sitting, walking, talking, being silent. It all felt so comfortable and … well, like home – or at least how she imagined a real home would feel.

The questions inside him were visible in his brow, in his posture as he walked over to join her. She knew how to read people. Reading Chuck wasn't always the easiest, but she had mastered the art. Which question would it be? The inappropriate probing question about her father? Or the plead for himself? Maybe concern about the mission?

"You OK?" It took a moment for the words to register. None of the above. It was a question about her – a question about how she was feeling. No matter how many times he made such gestures, she found each one a new surprise. A new delight. But she hid it in unwrapping the croissant.

"I'm fine." But with Chuck, with the comfort he provided, she gave up the fruitless act of repressing a sigh. "My Dad will turn up somewhere, but …" Wait, no, stop. He doesn't need to know. Nobody cares what she has to think or how she feels. No one ever really has. Topic change, quick. "Uh … I guess the real crime is that we didn't get to freeze the sheik's account." Feeling his eyes penetrating into her defenses, as he moved to sit down, she took a bite of the croissant, luxuriating in the comfort that it seemed only chocolate had been able to consistently give. Or was it the presence of Chuck that was providing the comfort and the chocolate only a symbol?

His words rather answered that question: the former. "Well, I'm sorry if I pushed you into trusting your father." Chuck was apologizing to her. When it was her father who had stolen the money, ruined the mission, and deserted her again. Her father needed to apologize, not Chuck. But Chuck was here, and her father wasn't. Her father never was. Not when she really needed someone.

The bitterness of that revelation crept into here words. "If there's one thing I learned from my father, it's be ready for disappointment." He had taught that lesson. Taught it by how he treated others, bilking money from them. Taught it by telling it to her directly. And most painfully, taught it by how he treated her, disappearing whenever she really needed him. She should have known better than to believe he could actually help her with something important. Mentally kicking herself, she continued, "and if it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

His "No, it's not." snapped her head back up to look at him intently. What did he know? How could he judge her? But was he right? Did she dare believe, even for a moment, that she somehow could be absolved of the guilt of driving her father away? She didn't know what she had done, but she figured there had to be a reason he wasn't there when he needed her. For whatever reason, she hadn't been good enough. But if Chuck thought otherwise….

He continued talking, directly to her, even though his voice sounded miles away. "Eleven years ago, my father left Ellie and me. He's a …." She had never heard Chuck or Ellie talk about their father. Their mother, too, was a topic which was generally verboten. Since she avoided questions about her past, it had never been a source of conflict – it was comfortable, like so many things with the Bartowskis. Yet, here he was, volunteering information about the man who had deserted him. To comfort her. And to help her deal with her own father, curse his black heart. It was a lot to take in.

"He was an unusual man, I guess that's generous, an engineer. We used to get Christmas cards and birthday calls and then one year, it just …it just stopped. I don't know why." The pain in his eyes was evident. The longing. The lingering questions. The desire to understand. She felt the same things weighing on her heart. Felt the questions battering at her calm. Knew the torture. Another thing she shared with Chuck. Chuck was so different from her father, wasn't he? Was he? Or did she need to be ready for another disappointment? It was so hard to trust, even Chuck.

His eyes captured her again. He wanted her to really hear and believe his next statement. "But what I do know is that it wasn't my fault." What a statement. It wasn't his fault. Did that mean her father's disappearance last night wasn't her fault? That his going to jail wasn't her fault? That all those other times he'd disappeared hadn't been her fault? Could she dare to lift that burden? If it had come from anyone else, she would never have considered the possibility. With the source, though, she had to consider the words. The honestly and pain present in his eyes touched her, touched her like no other person ever had.

"Granted, it took a significant amount of time and … an incredible amount of therapy to come to that realization, but…." What openness. How could he talk about such things? He didn't expect her to talk about her experiences, did he? No, he was just trying to heal her. Probably trying to heal himself, too. She tried to imagine herself in therapy, but she couldn't. She had too many secrets. Too many things she needed to keep to herself. But, maybe, just maybe, she could learn from his therapy.

But now she could learn from his words. Words that his eyes communicated as clearly as his mouth. Words he fully believed and desperately wanted her to believe. "You need to know that your father's sins are his and not yours." Her father's sins. His sins. Not hers. Even the concept lifted a weight, a burden she didn't know she was carrying. Time and talking might help more. Talking … what an alien concept, but she thought that she might just be able to talk to Chuck about her father. Maybe. At some point.

But not now. Now, she needed to time to absorb the greatest gift anyone had ever given her. A gift she needed. Another void filled. She swallowed. It was a lot to take in, especially when she wasn't ready for it. Not that she would probably have ever been ready. How long had Chuck prepared to give her this gift?

She knew the conversation burden was back on her. But she couldn't say everything she was thinking. Everything had all come too fast, too quickly, too early. 'Thank you' was completely insufficient. It was all too overwhelming – she even felt the constriction in her throat. "That's pretty eloquent for nine a.m." It would have been eloquent any time of day, but for a non-morning person like her…. It was nothing short of a miracle.

"What can I say? I am an articulate schnook." And, suddenly, the moment was light again. The sun shining on her back and neck was warm. The shared, solemn intimacy melted, leaving behind comfort and camaraderie. The intimacy was wonderful, but she needed time to process what had been said, process the conflicting feelings, process the trust shown in her. She chuckled – articulate indeed but not really a schnook.

His return chuckle freed her to laugh more deeply. "Lucky for me." She did feel lucky. Lucky to have such a person in her life. Lucky to have a real, true friend. She could feel her face starting to light up. That smile, the one she didn't know she had, the one that only Chuck could bring, was threatening to break out. She couldn't stop it if she tried. Not that she felt like trying.


End file.
